The Grey Lady
by weasleywheezes
Summary: An orderly at a nursing home discovers the truth about elderly Mrs. Weasley. (Eventually HGSS). It's a short story.


The Grey Lady  
by weasleywheezes  
  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything Potterish.  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This originally appeared in the SS Pru and Po's cookie jar at FA.

The residents of Anselm Manor Rehabilitation Centre were usually old and dotty, but the Grey Lady was different. Her name was Mrs. Weasley, but no one ever called her that. The nurses, Beaker, Janet, and Marisol, thought of her as a living ghost, always dressed in a prim grey tweed suit, always carrying a small book.  
  
Janet wondered if, perhaps, it was a historical novel, something about a hog's wart. She had her wits about her, and although she was obviously elderly, she had a grace and strength about her that was lacking in the rest of the patients.  
  
She was also a sad figure. When she and Nurse Beaker would make the rounds, they always found the Grey Lady alone in her private room, staring out the window, whispering to herself. Janet wondered why this intelligent woman was sitting in a nursing home, when it was obvious that she was unhappy.  
  
Every month, the Grey Lady would have visitors. Apparently, she married into a large family of practical jokers. Scads of red headed children and older people would flock to the end of the hall, hugging and kissing one another and giving flowers to the elderly woman. Every Weasley had red hair, except for the Grey Lady's son. His name was Crispin. He was darkly handsome, with a strong jaw line and an aloof manner. He had dark black hair with silvering temples. His son also had black hair, which hung loosely around his face. Nothing like the rest of his family, even his own mother. Janet and Marisol often wondered if he was adopted.  
  
One day in April, the Grey Lady was more solitary than usual. Nurse Beaker shook her head. "Janet, the first thing you learn is that the Grey Lady likes to be left alone. She's what you'd call a hermit. Marisol swears that she grieves for dead friends and her dead husband."  
  
Janet walked down to the end of the hall and peered into the crack of the door. The Grey Lady had taken her hair down and was brushing it. It was long, almost to her knees; it was silver and a little frizzy. The patient hummed a song, and began to chant a few words to herself. Suddenly, her hair became smooth and shiny. Janet's eyes grew wide. "What…how?" she whispered.  
  
Suddenly, the Grey Lady turned. Her large, soft eyes filled with tears. "Young lady, you may enter."  
  
Janet softly walked into the room. "Mrs. Weasley, might I help you?"  
  
"No, not really. It's today. Today, every year, for almost fifty years. I miss him so."  
  
Janet shook her head. Mrs. Weasley's husband had died only twelve years before, and she didn't know of any other children but Crispin. Who might Mrs. Weasley be speaking of?  
  
"I know what you're thinking. My heart died today, and I ache for what I cannot have." She waived her hand as if to dismiss her.  
  
Janet turned to leave, when she saw Crispin Weasley and his son. She nodded a hello and ran out of the room, but staying close enough to the door to eavesdrop on the family.  
  
"Mother, are you okay today?"  
  
"Son…my darling Crispin. You are all I have left. He would have been proud of you. And you too, Daniel, but he would have hated that you are a Ravenclaw."  
  
The Grey Lady put on a shabby black velveteen cloak on, and as Janet watched, the Weasleys walked outside to a long black car.  
  
"What happens after they leave?" Janet whispered to Nurse Beaker.  
  
"No one knows, and I don't think we want to."  
  
Janet followed the black car down the long gravel road, which lead to a high cliff on the outskirts of town. The party stopped, and parked the car. The Grey Lady stepped out, resplendent in violet silks, dripping with jewels and her long hair billowing in the wind.  
  
The young Weasley held his grandmother's hand, and the two walked toward the cliff. Crispin, carrying a bouquet of red roses and one white, followed behind.  
  
The three stood together at the precipice, chanting in unison. Suddenly, a mist appeared, shrouding the family and settling over the grasses. A moor materialized, thick with ivy, heather, and trees, and in the distance stood a small graveyard.  
  
Janet stood in awe, but knew she had to get closer. She tip-toed towards the trio, who were walking into the haze. She could hear the light sobbing of the woman, and the throaty assurances of her son.  
  
Janet found a large oak to hide behind while watching this intimate ceremony. Crispin and Daniel handed Mrs. Weasley a handful of roses as she walked toward a large, ornate headstone that read:  
  
**Ronald Weasley  
1981-2051  
Faithful and True**  
  
The Grey Lady laid the flowers on the stone, bent and kissed the name. "I miss you, my friend," she said.   
  
Janet thought, "Only my friend…not the father of my son, or my lover…" She caught from the corner of her eye the Grey Lady walking toward a small, overgrown plot, a decapitated angel on top of the memorial, with the head nestled at the base. The Grey Lady cleared some brush from the top of the monument, and Janet could barely read the inscription:  
  
**Martyr for the Cause  
Love that Will Transcend Death**  
  
The Grey Lady kneeled and deposited the rest of the flowers at her knees, and collapsed into tears. Crispin and Daniel ran to her side.  
  
"Severus…Severus…"  
  
Daniel wiped a tear and kissed the tombstone. Crispin's husky voice echoed through the cemetery, saying Latin phrases Janet couldn't understand, and then placed the angel's head on the body. Abruptly, the mist parted, and Janet heard what sounded like a disembodied voice, loud and clear.  
  
"Hermione, my heart. You are the thorn which pricked me to bleed, and I delighted in the pain. Grow strong, and never betray my sacrifice."  
  
The voice died away, leaving Janet softly weeping behind her tree while she watched the trio kneeling beside the monument. The head of the angel fell off of the pedestal.  
  
"Come, Mother, let's go."  
  
Crispin took the fragile hand of his grieving mother and led her towards the car. Janet followed closely behind, and as she looked back, saw the memorial park disappear.   
  
"Marisol, it was beautiful. Her dead lover spoke to her from beyond the veil!"  
  
"There's no way, Janet. You are insane!"  
  
Janet shook her head. No one could believe the incredible story. Janet had stayed away from Hermione Weasley's room out of respect, and because she feared that somehow, the Grey Lady woud know she had followed her.  
  
When Nurse Beaker and Janet made their rounds that evening, Janet checked on Mrs. Weasley, and was surprised when she called her into the room.  
  
"Please, don't tell anyone what you saw."  
  
Janet blushed. "It's too late. I already have, but no one believes me."  
  
The old woman smiled. "Severus was my companion. We fought against the forces of evil. I became pregnant, and when I was four months along, followers of the Dark Lord, whom we had defeated years before, murdered him. They also killed my best friend, Harry Potter. Perhaps you've heard of him?"  
  
Janet shook her head no.  
  
"Very well. Severus died, leaving me alone. My friend, Ron, who was more like a brother to me, asked me to marry him. He wanted me to be comfortable, and he wanted Crispin to have a father. The Weasley family was wonderful to me. They still are. They treat Crispin as their own, and for that I am eternally happy. But every year, on the anniversary of Severus' death, we attend to his grave and listen to the last message he ever gave me. Soon, Severus and I will be together again. I long for the day. I dreamed about it last night..."  
  
Janet wiped silent tears from her eyes. "You wish for death."  
  
"No. I long for life to be returned to me."  
  
She bid Janet farewell. And while she and Nurse Beaker finished checking on the decrepit bodies in the shabby beds, the Grey Lady returned to the arms of the one who always loved her, the one whose love transcended death. 


End file.
